


i knew you were trouble when you walk in

by nightingalesdonotsing (songbirdonvoyage)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Gen, M/M, Matthew Brown Needs More Love, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sassy Will Graham, nobody asks for this but here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 04:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbirdonvoyage/pseuds/nightingalesdonotsing
Summary: Some good old-fashioned pranks, that's Will Graham's way of a reckoning.It just so happens that he has the best accomplice with him.





	i knew you were trouble when you walk in

.

.

.

 

Hannibal's 'person suit'—however Bedelia had named it, albeit aptly—was no stranger to attention. Be it of admiration or simply dread, he took little interest and let it all slide away. The smarter ones would always avert their eyes, anyway.

Today, however, was different than usual when he walked into the BAU building. The hushed talks and raised fingers had lingered like a phantom sore that he could not quite place.

He decided to classify the observation as irrelevant at the back of his mind and headed to the BAU Department's laboratory area. Jack had made a phone call earlier this morning, requesting for his presence as soon as possible. He was apologetic but insistent nonetheless. Hannibal did not mind. He had the chance to play as Will Graham, after all.

The first person he encountered was Beverly Katz, already decked out in full ensemble of lab coat and goggles. Her half-finished cup of coffee laid on the counter; the hastily packed sandwich remained untouched.

"Good morning, Dr. Lecter." She gave him a polite nod and returned to the task at hand, namely a body splayed across the slab.

"Good morning, Ms. Katz." He walked to the cabinet behind her to retrieve a fresh pair of latex gloves. "You started early."

"Price and Zeller were called in, too," she said. "Jack wanted us to work on the case as soon as possible. Thank you for coming in today."

"You are very welcome."

Whatever Beverly had wanted to say afterwards withered away as she laid eyes on him. She pulled off her tainted gloves and walked to his back, eyebrows furrowed.

"Is there anything wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just..." He felt her hand on his suit. "Excuse me." A tug, a pull, and something came unstuck.

Hannibal turned to his back; the offending article in Beverly's hand was crumpled already. If anything, she was definitely reluctant to surrender it over to him.

"What is it, Ms. Katz?"

She passed it over without another word uttered. He unfurled the paper to reveal its content.

Even as Zeller and Price sauntered into the lab, he spared no attention to them. If gazes could set things alight, the paper would have been burned to a crisp already.

"I am the Chesapeake Ripper." Zeller peered over Hannibal's shoulder. "That's Will's handwriting, isn't it?"

The words were bold, striking. Red as though they were written in blood—if blood reeked of alcohol and paint thinner, that is.

"Yup," Price confirmed. "He drew that too, I suppose."

It was a caricature of Hannibal—a matchstick figure in suit and devil fangs. He even drew in a pair of antlers for good measure.

Will really could not draw, he duly noted. The artwork was pre-school level at best.

"It must be Will." Beverly rubbed her palm on her forehead. "No one besides him is accusing Dr. Lecter..."

"Accusing Dr. Lecter of what?" Jack's voice bellowed through the lab, announcing his entrance.

"Accusing me as the Chesapeake Ripper, it seems." Hannibal handed the paper to Jack. "It was stuck on my coat this morning."

"A prank." Jack seemed surprised. "Will, pulling off a prank?"

"Well, he can be quite..." Price rummaged through his list of vocabulary before settling on the word. "Spiteful."

"His colleague pulled a prank on him once," Zeller said. "Shrinkwrapped his lecture desk, took him a whole day to unwrap it."

"Once he found out who did it, he returned the favor. Hard." Price took a rueful sip of his lukewarm tea before continuing. "He offered to mow my lawn, so I helped him carry the poor bastard's bike to the rooftop."

"A round of drinks, and I get to choose the bar." Zeller piped in. "So I spiked the guy's coffee with paprika. And a packet of Miralax, too." 

They exchanged a high five. It earned them dagger stares from Jack.

"Didn't know he had it in him." Beverly's seemingly disapproving demeanor was betrayed by the slight twitch at the corner of her lip. "Now he's being desperate."

"This is getting out of hand." Jack's lips were a thin, taut line. "Dr. Lecter does not deserve any of this."

"If it serves to make him feel better," Hannibal said, his tone pleasant as though he was speaking a good-natured joke. "I am willing to bear the burden of accusation."

Hannibal had questions, but Will's childish attempts of a feud was admittedly endearing. Any sort of sentiments, however, came to a spluttering halt when he walked out of the BAU building at the end of the day to discover his Bentley covered entirely in post-it notes.

"C-H-E-S-A... Wow, it's all spelled out." Price shook his head, but his tone was not of reprimand. "Sorry Dr. Lecter, but gotta admit that's fine work right there."

Hannibal took a second too long to put on a nonchalant smile. "Indeed."

He tried to recall if he still had Price's name card somewhere in his house.

 

 

* * *

 

Despite the BAU team's collective effort to remove the coordinated mess of pink and yellow notes, it took them a good few hours before they were all cleared off his car.

"Damn it..." Zeller muttered. "Super glue, out of all things..."

Price applied a liberal dose of acetone over the bonded surface with a swab. "He's eager to leave a mark, isn't he?"

Beverly carefully extracted the notes from the windshield. "There will be stains no matter what." A resigned sigh.

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter as the Chesapeake Ripper..." Freddie Lounds' camera had been snapping away since. The ordeal had attracted a considerable amount of attention. "Will Graham is broken, but you know what they say? Even a broken clock's right twice a day."

Hannibal turned his back to her lens, arching over the Bentley's hood for a good grip of the remaining notes. If Freddie Lounds was determined for some scoop, he would make sure she had some good ones.

By the time he sent the Bentley to his trusted mechanic, the sun had already set. Jack had offered him a ride home and he obliged without any protest.

He shucked off his suit and vest before entering the kitchen, feeling oddly like a fool that he never was. Dinner was long due and he craved for a hearty Kidney Pie. It would go well with the bottle of Pinot Noir he had in mind.

He opened his refrigerator, only to be welcomed by tens, or God forbid, hundreds of gazes.

Fresh seasonal produce. Cartons of milk from the local farm. Hand-brewed stout in artisan bottles. Condiments shipped from faraway continents. His latest batch of pâté, meticulously sealed and labeled with best by dates. Everything had come to life with a pair of googly eyes.

The dark irises wobbled along with the silent hum of his state-of-the-art refrigerator.

The first instinct he had was to laugh. So, he laughed, as earnest as he could muster.

As much as Hannibal wanted to savor the image of Will Graham's delicate fingers—those fingers of his that are accustomed to fine handiwork—decorating his groceries, he was certain that this was not his work. The design, yes. The execution, certainly not.

"Someone is doing your bidding, Will," Hannibal spoke aloud—he wanted his runner to hear him. "This was impersonal, lack of intimacy."

The eyes stared onwards. Unblinking.

 

 

* * *

 

Hannibal stepped into the therapy hall in Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The midday light spilled through the arched windows did nothing to warm up the confines of stone walls and marble floor. Barely contained within the therapy cage, it was Will Graham, all forlorn and seemingly waiting for something, or someone.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Lecter."

He smiled. "Good afternoon, Will."

His chair had already shifted across the white line, he realized. "I take it as a closer step between our friendship."

"If it pleases you, Dr. Lecter, feel free to think so."

Hannibal took a seat.

A loud sound resembling a wet fart erupted from the chair.

The air froze. A few stifled snorts from the guards and the temperature dropped beneath subzero in an instance.

It took Hannibal an unprecedented amount of will power to stand up from his chair and pulled out the whoopie cushion from the chair.

Will blinked, upward gaze expectant like a damned puppy on his best behavior.

"Oops," he said. "Intimate enough, I hope?"

Hannibal's eyes fluttered shut. He managed to bite his groan back. He heard Will laughed—a sputter barely concealed by a cough, then it escalated into a full-fledged guffaw. A few weeks worth of laughter spilled out from his guts, and it was done on Hannibal's expense.

Big, bold imprints of Will Graham's name written all over his rolodex. The pristine floor tiles of his Palace riddled with bits and pieces of Will Graham's mutilated corpse.

Will continued to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

It did not bring Hannibal any satisfaction in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this awesome post on Tumblr >> poorbasil.tumblr.com/post/86916763651/next-time-on-hannibal
> 
> The unsung hero of this fic belongs to none other than Matthew Brown, even though his name isn't even mentioned once in anywhere.
> 
> Tough week, really in need of a pick-me-up. So yeah, decided to write some stuffs. It is therapeutic really. 
> 
> Pardon for the lack of updates, I will be free from my exams (hopefully, no more retakes nooo) after July, so I'll be back soon! 
> 
> In the meantime, hope you enjoy my first attempt on a crack fic hahaha! & have a nice day to y'all who's reading this.


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